Love Is Lost Revised Edition
by Frodolover614
Summary: (no flames I tell you! None!) A love is gained, then lost, and Kit can never trust herself again....then she realizes something.....
1. Confusion

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Love Is Lost: Revised Edition

Chapter One: Confusion

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Account of Aragorn

(K, peoples, I know that my last story under the same title was totally against canon and I'm fixing it. I hope u like it! Your desperate Frodolover614. P.S.: Kit really does have red hair and Aragorn does love Arwen this time. The song is by Loreena Mckennit: she's my fav singer! And for any that wanna check it out, the CD's title is "The Mask and Mirror", the song's title being "A Mystic's Dream". Or for just a little snippet, go to **http://www.quinlanroad.com/mp3s/mystics.mp3****. What I put in the story is what you'll hear on that link. And I have a theory: I am related to J.R.R. Tolkien and everybody else for that matter cuz we all came from monkeys. Maybe not the same monkeys, but monkeys none the less.)**

She held dignity and pride at her very fingertips, and her beauty and grace gave her the appearance of that of royal blood and that she was. She reminded me so of the elf maiden I loved: Arwen Undomiel. They were cousins in fact, through their mothers, and the greatest of friends, as we were. She was Aertali, elven lady of the wind and fire.

She was strange for an elf maiden, preferring breeches and shirts to the soft velvet dresses she carried with her and galloping wildly on her horse, Free, across the grasslands to reading and learning, although she knew much about the world. And her hair was a deep, rich red: the color of her favorite wine from Rivendell. It was a rare treat for her to taste it: we only visited the great Elven city once every few years. 

One morning on our yearly journey to the Prancing Pony, I woke very early, earlier than normal, to find her brushing her lovely chestnut desert mare, singing softly to herself:

A clouded dream on an earthly night,

Hangs upon the crescent moon,

A voiceless song in an ageless light,

Sings at the coming dawn.

Birds in flight are calling there,

Where the heart moves the stones

There that my heart is longing fore, 

All for the love of you.

The tune was so haunting, so magical. It was unlike jovial Kit to sing something as melancholy as that. But I knew of her past: too horrible it was to speak of. I sensed her deep blue eyes on me and I looked away. She changed to song:

Eureus,

Afer Ventus

So the world goes round and round

With all you ever knew,

They say the sky, high above,

Is Caribbean blue.

If every man says all he can

If every man is true

Do I believe the sky above

Is Caribbean blue.

Boreas

Zephyirus

If all you told,

Was turned to gold

If all you dreamed was new,

Imagine sky, high above

In Caribbean blue.

Eureus.

Afer Ventus.

Boreas.

Zephyirus…

Africus…

I sighed and stood to roll up my bed roll. Now this was more like her. But something was wrong. I could sense the sadness radiating from her as she stripped off Free's bridle, tied to an oak tree, to let her find her own food. I called out her name, her real Elvish name: "Aertali?" She didn't respond as she watched her beautiful mare canter away slightly to a particularly green patch of grass. "Kit?" She shook her head and looked at me. There was silence as the fire that kindled within her soul flickered. "Kit, will you go hunting? I did it yesterday." She smiled and nodded and her flame came back to life again. 

I was troubled by her distress for I had not known her to be so saddened by anything in the seven years of wandering together. Yes, she was a nomad by heart. She couldn't ever bear to stay in the same place for long. As I watched her strip out her birch bark bow and quiver, stocked with arrows, I knew she was dwelling on something, but what? 


	2. Secrets

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Chapter Two: Secrets

Account of Kit

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I could tell he suspected something. It was an unpleasant pleasant feeling, keeping something from a good friend. But I had to keep it to myself. It would hurt him so, to leave him. We had been friends for so long…

If I told him, it would force me to go back home to Mirkwood. I didn't want to go back to the harsh words of my father and the ignorance of my eldest brother, who was undoubtedly king now. But I missed my mother, my fraternal twin, Legolas, and my younger sister, Katessa. They were all royals of Mirkwood. Oh, for one glimpse of their faces….

My father held one of the Lost Seeing Stones, and no one knew it but me and my mother. I could feel his eyes on me at nearly all times. Elves often did not have to sleep. But before I left on my own meanderings, my mother took me aside and made me promise that if I told anyone about who I was, my true blood, that I would have to come home. She gave me a silver necklace that bound me to that promise before I struck off on my own. I had tried to convince Legolas to come with me, but he still loved Mirkwood: the wonderful feasts every night, the secretive darkness, our stars that we would often gaze at, and our family. His words were brave, like that the warrior that he was, but I could see the grieving in his heart: we had shared everything as little ones, from food to secrets. As we grew, he told me of his first kiss and I told him of my growing temper, of how I often snapped at Mother. And as our age increased, and the farther I grew away from the want of attention from my parents, the closer I grew to Legolas. We often went off alone to talk. And that was over two thousand years ago.

I had told Aragorn I was of royal blood, and yes, that was true, but he thought I was from Lothlorien. That was the birthplace of my mother, for she was second daughter of Galadriel, and I knew the Golden Wood well. But it wasn't true. My home was in Mirkwood, where I had lived through one age and a half of pure bliss. 

I couldn't help but dwell over this as I slipped out from under my blankets as the sun peaked up from the horizon slowly, turning the sky beautiful shades of lavender and pink. Drawing my faithful rapier, Solomar, I slashed it a few times through the air in both hands to loosen up and then set it back in its sheath. My Uncle Elrond, whom I was related to by marriage, had given it me last time Aragorn and I visited Rivendell. I called to Free mind to mind and a shrill whinny rose over the plains. I winced as Aragorn stirred. I didn't want to wake him so early. But my attention was drawn to my mare as she cantered up, still dressed in cloak and halter, the bit slipped into her mouth. She whickered softly and I smiled, tracing the wide blaze decorating her dished head. 

"How was the grazing?" I asked her in Quenya. She replied in Sindarin from her mind to mine:

"Not as good as it would look. A bitter taste to the grass. There must have been sheep here." "Aye, m'dear…aye…"

The sun rose ever higher.

I set to brushing her, to make Free's coat gleam in the early morning sunlight, to make it seem like burning fire. Tying her reins to a nearby oak, I stripped off the silver cloak from her back and set it on the ground, hoping that it wouldn't blow away. Opening one of my saddle bags, I pulled out a small brush and ran it gently over her coat. She rippled her muscles in sleepy pleasure. I began to sing:

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Eist le mo chiro,

Go bronach a choich

Ta me cailte gan tu

's do bhean cheile.

An gra mor i do shaoil

Threorai is me.

Bigi liomsa i gconai

La's oich.

The sun was visible as I finished off with her luxuriant tail. As I stepped back to admire my work, I heard Aragorn wake behind me. The song changed:

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A clouded dream on an earthly night,

Hangs upon the crescent moon,

A voiceless song in an ageless night,

Sings at the coming dawn.

Birds in flight are calling there,

Where the heart moves the stones.

There my heart is longing for,

All for the love of you….

His gaze was always so intense, I often couldn't comprehend what his emotions were until he spoke, but even then there was only the smallest hint. I turned to face him and I could then see the concern in his eyes, but he soon looked away. I changed the song:

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Eureus

Afer Ventus

So the world goes round and round,

With all you ever knew,

They say the sky, high above,

Is Caribbean blue.

If every man says all he can,

If every man is true,

Do I believe the sky above,

Is Caribbean blue.

Boreas

Zephyirus

If all you told was turned to gold,

If all you dreamed was new,

Imagine sky high above,

In Caribbean blue.

Eureus

Afer Ventus

Boreas

Zephyirus

Africus…

But he wasn't satisfied at my change of emotion. He was a good friend, so I knew that he cared. As he stood and transported his rolled up bed roll to one of my larger saddle bags, he glanced over at me more than natural. But hearing his stomach growl, I couldn't help to smile. But as I undid the buckles doing Free's halter to her head and stripped it off, I slipped off into my dwelling again. The desert mare cantered off a few paces to a patch of the rolling landscape that must have looked particularly good to her. He called out my name.

"Aertali?" No response from me.

He tried again. "Kit?" 

I shook my head and looked at him. His eyebrows knitted together in worry, but he said nothing in the way of that, and instead asked if I would hunt. I agreed. 

Pulling out my birch bow and my quiver, I ran my fingers over the intricate designs and sighed before setting off. The slight clatter of pans was heard as he set to making a fire. Another song came to me:

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Now my charms are o'erthrown

And what strength I have's mine own

Which is most faint: now t'is true

I must here be confined by you

But release me from my bands

With the help of your cruel hands

Gentle breath of yours my sails

Must fill, or else my project fails…

Which is to please. Now I want

Spirits to enforce, art to enchant

And my ending is despair

Unless I be relieved by prayer

Which pierces so that it assaults

Mercy itself and frees all faults

As you from your crimes would pardon'd be

Let your indulgence set me free… 

I spoke of the binding charm that my mother held onto. She loved me, yes, but I was grown now. I was never going to stay in Mirkwood forever. Mother knew that as I had said so many times before. Legolas often called me the wind of the family. The wind never stayed in the same spot for more than a few moments, but often returned: this was me, although the time staying was often a night or two. But I was happy as a nomad, and yet my mother still believed that my home was in Mirkwood. 

But then the slight rustle of leaves caught my attention.

There were two fat hares, old, and they weren't going to live much longer, even if I wasn't going to shoot them for our breakfast. 

Fitting two arrows to my bow and drawing back the bow string, I released. Two short squeals and then silence. I picked to two gray hares up by the hind feet and started to carry them back to camp. A pained scream came to my ears. I started to run, recognizing the soprano of my mare. I had a surprise waiting for me… 

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End of Chapter Two

Have question: should Free die? Hosting poll in reviews. I really don't want her to, but I'll consider it if most of the reviewers say yes. BUT I LOVE HORSES!!!!!!!! lol!

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	3. Slow Working Poison

Chapter Three: Slow Working Poison

Disclaimer: The character's (except Kit and Free) are not mine!!!! *sobs* The song is again by Loreena Mckennit. No money, please. *bursts into awfully large tears* lol! The song from the last two chapters was by her too (aka: A clouded dream on an earthly night….), I just forgot to add the disclaimer. And Kit lived with a herd of horses before she met Aragorn and was bit by the lead mare, and has the power to turn into a blood red, ice blue winged, golden horned, fanged horse. *wipes sweat off forehead* Whew! lol! She changes back in forth between her true form and her horse form several times.

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Have another question: should Boromir die eventually or not? Aragorn does not die.

Account of Aragorn

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While she was gone, a lone orc had come up behind me and shot me in the arm. I had killed the nasty creature by throwing my spare knife at him. It hit him, straight and true, in the heart. He had time enough to live to shoot Free in the hindquarter. The mare started and bucked with a sharp scream, but stood where she was. Kit ran up, two gray hares swinging in her hand. She immediately set them down when she saw myself and her horse. I couldn't blame her for tending to her horse first, for the mare had traveled with her for many more years than I. 

She wrenched out the red tipped arrow with a strength I never knew she had. It was poisoned, and she knew. From where I sat, I could see shining tears flow slowly down her pale features. Massaging her horse's flesh almost desperately, and although my vision started to spin, I could see a deep yellow liquid seep from the wound. Kit ripped out a white bandage from one of her four saddle bags and wrapped it tenderly around the wounded flank. The elf then turned to me. 

She did the same, after rolling up my ripped sleeve, but slowly worked out the arrow, as if to try not to hurt me. I was beginning to feel dizzy, and had to fight the urge to close my eyes, for fear of never opening them again. But she rubbed a sweet-smelling cream over my wound and wrapped the white cloth about my arm and kissed it in a blessing. Immediately, my sight cleared. She laid her head on my shoulder and began to cry most pitifully. She was frightened for her horse's survival: she loved Free. I hesitated for only a moment before drawing her into a firm embrace, rocking her back and forth. She had never allowed me to do such when either one of us was grieving, but now she seemed grateful for comfort. 

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but after a while, Kit stood and went to the hares and set to cooking them. Readying a spit, she set them upon it over the fire, already blazing. Her eyes closed and she lay back upon the soft grass. I unsteadily crawled over on hands and knees and sat by her side. Soon enough, she rolled over onto her belly and fell asleep. She looked so innocent, not the murderess of orcs that I knew during this time of day. I stroked her back and began to sing one of her favorites:

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A farmer that lived in the north country,

hey ho, and me bonny o!

He had daughters one, two, three

The swans swim so bonny o.

These daughters, they walked by the river's brim

hey ho, and me bonny o!

The eldest pushed the youngest in

The swans swim so bonny o

Oh sister, oh sister, pray lend me your hand

hey ho, and me bonny o!

And I shall give you house and land

The swans swim so bonny o.

I'll give you neither hand nor glove

hey ho and me bonny o!

Unless you give me your own true love

The swans swim so bonny o…

Kit woke and sat up, wiping away the tears from her eyes. She gingerly touched my arm and drew away when I flinched in pain. It did hurt and quite a good amount at that. She stood and helped me stand. I looked at her in admiration. She was so amazing, so strong of heart and mind. But she shivered, despite the heat of that warm summer day. Wrapping her in a fairly thin blanket and helping her to the shade of a young maple, I sat her down, cradling her with my arms. 

Free seemed to be alright, for she trotted briskly over to the shade of an ancient oak and set to grazing. Dear Kit, she resembled Arwen when I went back to wandering: cold and ill. But that wondrous night when I had verbally made love to her…she had wept with pride. But Kit was a friend and I would never think of performing that for her, although I would comfort her as best I could. I murmured soothing words in Quenya into her ear. She relaxed and fell back into my arms.

I felt her brow. It was ridden with sweat, but was of normal temperature. "No…Aragorn…stop…just let me rest…" She tried weakly to push me away, her hand finding my chest, but I held her, as a young girl would hold a favorite toy when frightened. And that I was: I did not wish for my companion to perish. She was too precious to me. We must have sat for hours, for when she finally stood, the sun was sinking in the sky. 

"Kit…what happened?" She did not happen. She seemed not to hear me. But after a few moments, she groaned and clutched at her head, sinking to her knees. Tears flowed from her closed eyes as she bent nearly over double, whispering "No…no…it isn't true…no!" As the moon rose and the stars shone brightly, it was then she finally came back to her own senses. Afraid to touch her, I reached out a hand. "Kit…**what happened**?" She looked at me, her eyes a swirling depth of fuchsia, and voice was a low growl.

"How would you feel if you couldn't hear anything? Do be drowning in your own father's voice?!" Fangs grew from her mouth and slowly dripped poison. But as she drew her rapier, she came back to herself and looked away. She was hiding something…

Before I could ask what it was, she called Free to her and the mare trotted up, her tail lifted and her step jaunty. Kit hurriedly tacked up her mare, yet with expertise. Tightening the strap on the saddle bags with all our things in them, they walked off and I had no choice but to follow. Yes…I would ask her soon… 

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	4. The Prancing Pony

Chapter 4: The Prancing Pony

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Disclaimer: This place is not mine…*sobs again, but harder this time* end disclaimer

Kit is not a slut **at all!** It's complicated, but it is possible to love two people at the same time. You'll see what I'm talking about later.

I'm basing as much of this story off the movie as I can. Lots and lots of dialogue and actions from it. I'm doing this cuz I saw the movie before reading the book, and I was inspired. 

Alright, I think I might stop the account thing sooner or later, cuz it's getting kinda annoying, but not for now.

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Account of Frodo

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It was raining, but we hardly noticed as we ran across the road to the gate into Bree. I knocked and a surly looking man opened a peek hole to look at us. He then opened the door, holding a lantern.

" 'Obbits…four 'obbits. Well, what d'you want?"

I heard Sam shift nervously behind me. "We're heading for the Prancing Pony. Our business is our own."

"Alright, sir, I meant no 'arm. But it's m'job to ask questions after nightfall. There's talk of strange folk abroad." and he let us pass through before closing the door.

The people in Bree were tough, by the look of them. A huge cart, drawn by the biggest horse I have ever seen, rolled past us, the hind wheel so high, I couldn't have touched the top had I stood on my toes. But then relief flooded through me as the sign of "The Prancing Pony" came into view. We nearly ran to the door.

As we entered and Sam closed the heavy door, I stepped up to the counter that was almost vertically above us. "Excuse me," I said.

A man appeared above us, holding two mugs. He seemed surprised. "Oh, good evening, little masters. I have some nice hobbit sized rooms, if it's accommodations you're seeking, Mr.…"

"Underhill…" I said. "My name's Underhill."

"Underhill…." murmured the innkeeper.

"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?" The innkeeper hesitated. "Gandalf?" He seemed to be thinking. "Gandalf….oh yes! Tall fellow. Long grey beard, pointy hat." I nodded, relieved. "Not seen him for six months." I nodded and turned to find a table, motioning to Sam, Merry, and Pippin to follow.

Pippin, Sam, and I sat with our drinks and supper, uneasy with all these rowdy people about. Sam motioned with his bread to a corner across the room. "Those two have done nothing but stare at you since we arrived." I ventured to look over.

There sat the surprising pair my eyes have ever seen.

A man was draped in black with the hood of his cloak covering his eyes. Beside him was a red haired woman, her silver cloak wrapped around her. The gaze from those deep blue eyes, flecked with fuchsia, was sharp and piercing and I felt as if my very soul was being searched. She leaned over and whispered something to the man next to her. He took the pipe he was holding out of his mouth and nodded before taking it back into his mouth. He breathed it in, and the slight light from the glowing pipeweed lit up his face only slightly.

The woman rolled her eyes and her gaze turned back to me. She tucked back her long red hair behind her ear and I saw that they were pointed. She was an elf…a strikingly beautiful elven maiden. But then I heard a hiss inside my mind: "Look away…now…" Fangs grew from the inside of the maiden's mouth. 

It was an order and I obeyed. But he couldn't help but think that that voice had been so feminine, so smooth and flowing that it was like silk.

The innkeeper was walking by when I caught his attention. "Excuse me. Who are that man and woman in the corner?" He looked over and quickly looked back. "Oh….them. They're two of those Rangers. Dangerous folk they are. Now I don't know the elf's name. Don't call her nothing, neither. I don't know the man's right name, but round 'ere, 'is name's Strider." He hurriedly walked off. 

Merry came back, carrying a huge pint. Pippin was amazed. "What's that?" "This, my friend, is a pint!" Merry said with pride, setting it down on the table. Pippin gaped. "It comes in pints? I'm getting one." he declared and went off to get his pint. "But you've had half a liter already!" protested Sam. 

I started to finger the Ring, almost against my will. My eyes closed. I heard another voice inside my head, but it was deeper, more dangerous. "Baggins….Baggins….Baggins…." I awoke from my trance as I heard Pippin say my last name. "Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins. Frodo Baggins. He's over there." and he waved. "Oh no…" I thought as I made my way over to where Pippin stood. "He's my cousin, twice removed on his mother's side…" I heard him say. I grabbed his arm and said his name. "Steady on!" he exclaimed as he pushed me away. I fell and the Ring in my hand flew up into the air.

Its descent seemed so very slow. I strove to catch it and it just barely slipped onto my finger. Suddenly, I was transported into a windy realm without form. And then something horrifying something came into view: a great eye wreathed in flame, absolutely lidless. "You cannot hide…I see you!…" I slipped off the Ring and came back into the real world. I sighed in relief.

Then a hand grabbed me and pulled me out of the chair.

The person, the man that had been sitting in the corner, pushed me up against the wall. "You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill!" and with that, he shoved me up the stairs.

Soon, we reached a room, and the man roughly pushed me in. The maiden stood there, her face expressionless, and yet the muscles along her jaw line were tensed, her arms crossed over her chest. And now I noticed: a rapier stood ready in its sheath. She was a warrior. Strange, yes, but stranger yet was the fact the she wore a dress of her ice blue crushed velvet along with it. But my attentions were drawn to her companion. 

"What do you want from me?" 

"A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry." he said as turned away.

"I carry nothing." "Indeed…" One by one, he pinched out the candles.

"We can avoid being seen if we wish, but to disappear entirely…" He moved his hand up to his head and pulled back his hood, revealing a bronzed face with gray eyes, dark hair framing his intense gaze.

"Now that is a rare gift." 

There were noises at the door, and both elf and man drew their weapons, ready. In came Sam, Merry and Pippin. Sam turned out to be bolder than I had ever seen him. "Call down, or I'll 'ave you , longshanks!" he cried. The maiden growled softly within her throat and set her rapier in its sheath again, turning away. Following suit, the man set his sword back in its proper storage and with a small bow of the head, said: "You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that will not save you."

Soon enough, we were asleep by the fire, covered gently with blankets. The maiden, whom Strider had called Kit, had draped them across me with a caring tenderness that she had not shown for any of my friends, however her change in emotion was very slight. 

Screams came from across the road. We awoke with a start, and found that Kit and Strider sat by the window side by side. 

"Who are they?" I asked with caution.

"Murderers." murmured Kit, a fire alighting in her deep blue eyes. Strider took her hand and turned to us. "They were once great kings of old. Sauron the Deceiver offered them nine rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question. One by one, they fell into darkness. They are the Nazgul, Ringwraiths, and are neither living nor dead."

He turned to face back out of the window. 

"They are always drawn to the presence of the One. They will never stop hunting you."

Sam shivered with a scowl near me. 

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Morning dawned bright and warm. Strider told us to pack up our things quickly and we did so. Kit was nowhere to be found. Strider told us she was readying her horse and our pack pony. We were the first into the main room. The innkeeper was frying bacon and the warm smell awoke me greatly. I heard Pippin's stomach growl behind me and could barely hide a grin. Half way through our breakfast, Kit came in impatiently. This morning she was dressed in a green velvet shirt, and tan cotton breeches. She was beautiful, yet ever so strange. 

"Let's go. I want to reach Rivendell in a week at the most."

Sam glared at her and she returned his gaze coldly. After a bit, he blushed and turned back to his breakfast. Kit took away one slice of Strider's bacon and he tried to grab it back from her, but she bit into it and stepped out of his reach. With a heavy sigh, he drank down his water, and gave the last slice to Kit. She took it gratefully with a word in Elvish and wolfed it down. 

"No breakfast this morning," she said, shaking her head. She stepped out, Strider after her. I rose, clearing my throat, and Sam stood as well, followed by Merry and finally, Pippin. We followed them. 

Out in the small courtyard, Strider stood holding the reins of an enormous chestnut mare. We stared. Kit suddenly mounted from the other side and noticed our goggling. Her voice was cold, and yet filled with pride. "This is Free." She patted her mare's neck, and suddenly, her voice went icy again. "She trusts very few, Strider and I being among them. No one is to touch her save in a dire emergency." She motioned to the good sized chestnut pony we would be using for our travels. On his back were four saddle bags, strapped tightly around his girth. He was a lovely chestnut color, his mane and tail great flowing waves of flaxen. Sam decided to be the one to lead him. Kit nudged her mare with her heels and we started off…off into the unknown… 


	5. Journey

Chapter 5: Journey

Really short chapter this one is. And tank you much Crystalhorse72. I tried my best in the last chapter to make it match the movie, and I only added a little part at the end. Yup, that's about it. Only some of this is in the movie, I think. *pats Free* I love that mare!

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Account of Aragorn

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For days, Kit scouted ahead at a steady canter and would meet us up several miles ahead. It was there that we would stop for a meal or rest. Often, she would supply us with any wild birds or rabbits that she could find for food. The hobbits, obviously unused to walking this far in one day, often complained, the one called Pippin the most. For days, we went in this fashion.

One cloudy Thursday morning, I stood and gave the awaiting Free the core of my apple. The mare whickered thankfully and crunched loudly. When she was done, Kit smiled and lightly heeled her mare off at an easy trot. There was a clatter of pans behind me and I turned to see that they were readying a fire. "Gentlemen," I said. "We do not stop 'til nightfall." Pippin looked up. "But we're makin' breakfast!" he protested. "You've already had it," I countered. "First breakfast, yes. But what about second breakfast. Well, there was nothing I could have said to that, so I just stared, shook my head, and walked off. Merry and Pippin had started an argument behind me. After listening to them bicker for a while, I took out two apples from my sack and threw them one at a time over my shoulder.

That night, after we had eaten and the hobbits were asleep, Kit and I took opportunity to speak. She had stripped down to that white silk slip that I had only seen her wear a little, and her hair fell carelessly about her shoulders. As I sat down next her, she smiled and gave a small chuckle at nothing. "You are so beautiful," I commented. "But not as beautiful as Arwen," she murmured, staring into the flame. She craved something… "Kit, is there something wrong?" She hesitated. Maybe this was the thing she had been hiding. "Yes, there is…" she whispered. "I miss my family. They mean much to me, especially my twin, Legolas." "Is there anything I might be able to do to help?" I asked as I draped an arm across her back. She looked up at me with a bitter smile. "Murder me," she said dryly. My smile dropped. I had gotten nowhere. But lifting her chin with my hand so she would more easily see me. "Hear this now: I shall not do so. You are a friend, and I love you in that way. You mean much to me," "You're talking like the King I know you are…" she murmured and, with a sigh, looked away.

Sweet morning came. Free cantered near as the sun only began to peak over the hills, and Kit dressed quickly behind a bush and tacked her up. Humming softly to herself, she made breakfast ready: dove left over from the night before. The hobbits woke to the crackling of the fire and the wonderful smell of roasting bird. As we ate, Kit was nowhere to be found, but as we finished, she calmly approached. A robin perched on her shoulder, she held a letter. "Strider, I must leave now. I have urgent business in Rivendell to attend to. I shall meet you there." With a polite, and reserved smile to the hobbits, she mounted Free and let the robin fly off as she galloped into the rising sun. 


	6. Rivendell

Chapter 6: Rivendell

I think that the last chapter was a little strange. I dunno. Oh well! Sry 4 not writing more, but I had tons of school work and I was debating with myself over if I should do the Weathertop scene or not, and **finally** decided not to. And no accounts this time. Makes life easier for me nowadays. I know that Sam rushes into Frodo's room at one point, but I didn't want to put that in, so I could add a little of my own spice, per say.

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With a flash of white light, Frodo felt he was falling…falling…falling….

He saw an Elven lord, shrouded in mist, and heard distant words in Quenya, and then the familiar, comforting sight of Kit and her sweet voice.

He awoke, slightly damp with sweat, tossing his head about. "Where am I?" he murmured. The hobbit felt a hand caress his cheek gently, the skin warm and silky, and then heard a familiar voice, deep and rumbling: "You are in the House of Elrond, and it is ten o'clock in the morning, on October the twenty fifth, if you want to know." 

Frodo's eyes snapped open. "Gandalf!" he cried, and he struggled to sit up, but strong hands pushed him back into the pillows. "You need to rest," said a sweet voice and he gazed up into twin piercing blue eyes, that held a deep bond of friendship…that of course she pulled right out of the air. "I need to sit, please," he said and with Kit's help, he supported his weight on his elbows. A question came to his tongue. 

"Why didn't you meet us Gandalf?" he asked. The wizard hesitated. "I was….I was delayed…" For a while, he sat and thought of….things…. 

"What is it Gandalf?" questioned the hobbit. Gandalf started in his chair. "Nothing, Frodo….nothing. The important thing is that I am here with you…and you're lucky to be here. By the skills of Lord Elrond and his niece, you're on the mend." The Elven lord he had seen in his dream then stood before him. "Welcome to Rivendell, Master Baggins."

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Later on in that morning, Frodo asked Kit, who had been appointed his nurse, if he could go for a walk. She cocked a fine eyebrow, but shook her head and smiled. "I do not see how such a little creature, now matter how endearing," she said, pinching his cheek jokingly before striding quickly over to a large chest seated on the balcony outside and opening it. "can survive such a wound." With a small chuckle to herself, she stripped out a white silk bandage and motioned for him to come to her. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled him up into her lap. The sun-warmed ice blue velvet of her gown brushing against his back did more than just heat him; he felt shivers crawl down his spine and back up again, and he shuddered. Kit noticed as she finished stripping the other silk bandage wrapped around loosely around his shoulder. "Are you cold?" she asked with concern. 

Frodo shook his head. The trembling stopped as he leaned back into her as she asked. She produced a vial of clear liquid and poured a few drops onto the silk. As she wrapped the bandage around his wound and as the fluid sank into his injury, it began to burn. He cried out, sliding off her knees, and desperately tried to unravel the bandage from his shoulder, but Kit quickly caught both his hands and rubbed them together slowly, leaning her face in close until their noses touched. "I know…" she murmured. "I know it hurts, but I know you will manage." The soft press of her lips on his cheek made his breath catch in his throat, but then she left. "I'm so silly!" he thought. "I, a hobbit, in love with an elf, and a princess at that!" With a mirthless laugh, he turned to his wardrobe and began to dress in his own clothes.

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	7. Love

Chapter 7: Love

This is my own thing, this didn't happen in book or movie, as you can tell. Hehehehehehe! Thanx Crystalhorse72 and Connor Wolf!*hugs them* "Taur" means "forest" in Sindarin.

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Disclaimer: Song by The Mediaeval Babes. They're really good. 

**************************************************************************************** Account of Boromir

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So ethereal was she, dressed in billowing silver velvet, she nearly glowed in the mid-morning sun. And yet a rapier was hung from a belt that was girt about her waist. Strange for a woman, to say the least. Despite that, I instantly grew weak in the knees as she brushed past me on her way down the many paths of Rivendell. I had to support my weight by leaning against a tree on the side of the narrow path. This should not have happened: we had known each other for a long time. But I was lost and wished to know this great Elven haven. "Aertali?" I called, hoping she would not notice me. But she turned and cocked a fine eyebrow. Oh, how perfect, how deep and blue her eyes were…I never remembered them to be such…shaking my head, I went to her. Much to my surprise, she was nearly as tall as I: she had always been on the small side. When we were we were in our adolescence, my friends back in Gondor would tease her. I would fend them off with several threats, but as they threw insults at her, she just stood calmly, a look of amusement etched on her features. In faulty Sindarin, I said: "Might I walk with thee?"

The drawn line of her lips curved up in a smile and parted for a laugh, before replying in fluid Westernesse. "Goodness, Boromir, there is no need to speak in Elvish to me. I know Westernesse and Westron, whichever you might prefer. I may be an Elven princess, but I could not care less. And call me Kit!" she said between giggles. 

"Of course…Kit. May I walk with you?" She nodded. Her strides were slowed, less hurried, as I walked beside her. "Why is it that you wield a rapier?" I asked, speaking in Westron. Her gaze hardened.

"I have every right to," she said. Her voice was strained: I could tell she was trying hard not to snap. "Solomar has saved my life so many times. Without him, I would be dead." I had not noticed before, but there were three silver scars: one across her temple, one across her cheek, and the other, the longest, a long streak about seven inches long from the base of her neck to the fabric of her dress. A blow from an orc's blade, most likely seeking to cut out her heart. I reached up to caress the mark of battle on her temple, to help sooth the memory of pain, but she jerked her head away almost grotesquely before collecting her movements once more. 

Not ready, then…yet, I hoped. "Boromir, please…don't…" she murmured, her voice low and serious. There was a silence between us as the robins and the jays and the sparrows called to each other. A cascade of golden, red and orange leaves fell upon us. Several landed in her hair and I plucked one out, a beautiful mixture red and orange, and gave it to her. She took and smiled, only to look up to meet my gaze. For the first time, I could see joy dancing in her eyes, but it was reserved. I smiled in pity.

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Account of Kit

Pity. The last thing I needed. To get away from the swirling pit of desire in my stomach, I ran ahead, steadying Solomar with my hand. I came to the bank of the mountain lake that Arwen and I had discovered when we were little, as well as curious and rebellious. Unbuckling my belt, I laid it upon the grass and stripped off the silver dress I wore, revealing a gray silk slip. Feeling Boromir's eyes on me, I briskly walked down the sandy beach to find the deepest spot. It was warm for autumn, and the heat pressed in on my bared skin like a blanket. I anxiously jumped in with the special call that Arwen and I had agreed upon as girls. 

An answering call came from the great palace, and soon enough, while I floated carelessly upon my back, she came running. She too stripped off the velvet she wore, dark blue today. Her slip was a beautiful light sapphire that matched her eyes to perfection. She dove in like a swan, coming up on the other side of me. For quite a long time, we played pranks upon each other and relieved our grace for a while: something that my Uncle, her father, had never allowed us to do within his view.

As the dusk fell, Arwen and I had successfully swam to the other side of the lake, something we had never dared to do before. We slowly drifted back towards the diving bank, and the stars winked merrily at us from the midnight blue sky. My thoughts suddenly came to Boromir. All I could see was his youthful face, his muscular body. "Kit?" Arwen said and she nudged me gently. I looked over at her and smiled. "My apologies, Arwen. I was just thinking…" "About what?" I rolled my eyes playfully. She was too curious for her own good. "Boromir." I answered truthfully. My cousin raised her fine eyebrows and smiled. "Stop it," I said, pushing her playfully. 

We reached the shore and we heaved ourselves up onto the fallen leaves and the grass, laughing. Boromir had gone in: I did not blame him. But there was something Arwen and I should have been doing now…

"The feast!" she cried and we hastily did our best to dry our hair and free our dresses of the leaves dotting them in ridiculous patterns of red, orange, and gold. No slips tonight: they were soaked. Sliding the velvet over our heads, we dashed back to the House of Elrond.

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Auspiciously, we had not been missed until the moment we elegantly walked into the Dining Hall. My uncle glanced at us and my cheeks flushed in shame. "Ah, so the two princesses have decided to join us," he scolded gently as we approached. "The other maidens await." he said as he motioned to the long line of our sweet-voiced friends. They smiled and gestured to the gap in the middle of the row saved for us. We took our places with apologetic grins and the song began with the flute:

__

Ah si mon moine vouliet danser

Un capuchon je lui donnerai,

Danse, mon moine danse 

Tu n'entends pas le danse

Tu n'entends pas moulin-lon-la

Tu n'entends pas

Mon moulin marcher

Ah si mon moine voulait danser

Un ceinturon je lui donnerai

Danse, mon moine danse 

Tu n'entends pas le danse

Tu n'entends pas moulin-lon-la

Tu n'entends pas

Mon moulin marcher!

Ah is mon moine voulait danser

Un chapelet je lui donnerai

Danse, mon moine danse 

Tu n'entends pas le danse

Tu n'entends pas moulin-lon-la

Tu n'entends pas

Mon moulin marcher!

Ah is mon moine voulait danser

Un beau psautier je lui donnerai

Danse, mon moine danse 

Tu n'entends pas le danse

Tu n'entends pas moulin-lon-la

Tu n'entends pas

Mon moulin marcher!

Si'l n'avait fait voeu de pauvrete

Bien d'autres chos' he lui donnerais

Danse, mon moine danse 

Tu n'entends pas le danse

Tu n'entends pas moulin-lon-la

Tu n'entends pas

Mon moulin marcher!

And so the song ended. The whole hall clapped and cat-called as we laughed and pranced back to our seats among all the guests. I sat down in my usual seat across from Arwen, Frodo to the right of me, his uncle Bilbo to my left. Bilbo laid his hand on mine in the common greeting of the Rivendell Elves, and one that I strongly disapproved of. "Well done, Aertali! Your voice makes the sun and the stars shine brighter," he commented. I rolled my eyes playfully. "Thank you, Bilbo, but that was nothing compared to my cousin." I added modestly, motioning with my wine goblet to Arwen. 

She chuckled and shook her head, thanking me. But I noticed Frodo was silent, an shade of crimson coming to his cheeks as I gazed at him, that I found strangely attractive. Probably remembering the bath. Rolling my eyes again, I set to eating.

Soon enough, the feast ended and Elrond dismissed everyone to do what they would. It was my time to read in the library. 

Frodo came in soon after I had picked up my volume, bound in black velvet, titled "Taur" in wavy, silver writing. His knees began to tremble as I gazed at him. "Frodo? What's wrong?" I had helped heal him, and would not let him fall into illness again. "Nothing. I just feel I need to speak to you." Closing my book, I motioned to the chair across from me. He heavily sat down, his good hand gripping the chair as if to steady himself. 

Cocking an eyebrow, I set my book in my lap and sat back, waiting. "Kit?" he began. "Yes?" I answered. "Have you ever loved someone and they did not return your feelings?" I shook my head slowly. He nodded and stood. "Thank you for your time, Kit." he said and began to leave. "Frodo," I called and curled a finger to signal him to come. He instantly obeyed. 

"I wanted to have feelings for…someone. I showed him love I did not feel, and he soon righted my mind. We're just friends now." "Who was he?" the hobbit asked eagerly. I hesitated. "Strider."

He nodded and left quickly. With a sigh, I put my book back and went to my room.


	8. Nightly Visitor

Chapter 9: Nightly Visitor

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This is a really cool chapter….I mean it….I do….

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Account of Boromir

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As I slipped quietly through the halls of Rivendell, several thoughts raced through my mind. But when I reached Lord Elrond's hall, there was only one thing I could think of: the question of where she was. I knocked and an answering voice came: "Come in!" I breathed in deeply and opened the double doors. The Lord Elrond sat behind a table, among many Elven lords and ladies. I felt embarrassed to ask this. What would they think? I still wanted to protect her virtue, yes, but I had fallen in love with her. "My Lord, might I know where the Lady Aertali's quarters are?" I felt hot and flushed as several of the maidens giggled. But Elrond smiled a warm, understanding smile. "She sleeps in a room up three floors and is the last room on the right." I thanked him and tried to look dignified as I exited, but failed rather miserably.

. The oak door into her room was open and as I looked in, I had to hold back a gasp. She lay back against light blue pillows, half her lithe body covered in silk sheets of the same color. Her vivid crimson hair was carelessly spread about her and her hands steadied her head against the cascade of cushions. But what struck me most was the full moon bouncing off the white silk slip, making her glow and seem unearthly. A cool autumn breeze came through the room, which was open to all the elements. A waterfall of leaves blew in, swirling around my angel, but she moved not save for the blinking of her eyes. I could not hold it any longer. 

Clearing my throat, I stepped in. She easily slid up into a sitting position, her cerulean eyes shining with wonder. "Boromir? What are you doing here?" "There are no words to tell you how amazed I am of you. When you last visited Gondor, you were such a diminutive thing. Now…now, you've grown nearly as tall as I. And more like the woman you ought to be. But the one thing that has always been the same is that you have always acted like a tomboy, I suppose. You shouldn't at your age. People expect you to have pride in your feminism. You should be married and have children by now…" "I am not who they want me to be. I am who I am, Boromir. I wish not to be anyone else." With a sigh, I went to her bedside and sat

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Account of Kit

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He gazed at my lips for a long time, as if to kiss me. But instead he took my hand and patted it. "I know," he murmured. "But when I marry you, it would only be proper if you acted like a woman." and with that, he stood and left.

For hours after, I lay in bed in shock, pondering over what he had told me. "When I marry you….when I marry you….when I marry you…."echoed continuously inside my head. Had he meant that? 


	9. Revealing

Chapter 10: Revealing Thank you again, Crystalhorse72, for those wonderful reviews! *dances for no reason what so ever* *evil laugh* **************************************************************************** ************** Account of Legolas **************************************************************************** **************  
  
As I walked the many paths of Imladris, a sweet song came to me. It was so familiar.but I could not place the voice. I broke into a run, traveling swiftly down the path. I came to a clearing in the trees. A fountain was placed there, its head shaped like a rearing horse. Sitting upon the edge was an elf maiden, dressed in white silk and lace. A soft breeze picked up and the sun beat down on her rich red hair. My eyes narrowed, a theory growing within me..  
  
"Kit!" I cried and she turned. "Legolas? Legolas!" and she stood and came to embrace me. I enveloped her into my arms and we stood there for quite a while. "Let me have a look at you." I said into her ear. She pulled back a little. She looked so feminine, so regal..almost like our mother..  
  
She smiled and backed away a few steps. She looked me up and down. "You look wonderful," she murmured, most likely noting my taller stature. I was much more grown than I was the fifty-seven years ago she left with Free. "And you, my beloved sister, look like a queen." I replied, lifting her chin with my hand. She cleared her throat and turned away. "I am not returning to Mirkwood, Legolas.ever, if I can help it." "You do not miss mother, Katessa..me?"  
  
She turned, the hurt in her eyes nearly glowing as the irises, normally such a beautiful blue swirled into lavender. "I do, Legolas, but it's father that I do not miss.."  
  
"Why is that you feel this way?" I snapped, turning her to face me. "He never harmed you in any way!" She spoke, her tone calm, yet icy. "You are wrong, Legolas. He did hurt me. Not physically, however. His disapproval of when the fairer sex, as mother called it, became stronger than the men, as when I did when I bested Boromir in the duel, slayed me from within. It hurt mother and Katessa, as well."  
  
"No matter, Kit. What matters now is your safety from men..of any race. I saw you and the Human, Boromir from Gondor, yesterday near the 'hidden' mountain lake. He watched you with such a longing.I have reason to believe he loves you. Yet he is young and most likely he does not know what love is." "You don't either, Legolas!" she cried, her voice trembling with unhidden emotion. "You have never fallen in love, but I am in love! I love Boromir! I care not for his race; he is perfect in my eyes!" With that, she turned and ran back to the Haven with one last heated look.  
  
Regret pounded in my heart is I went the other way. She was princess, and was expected to marry another Elf of high place. She was right, however. I had never fallen in true love: I knew not what it felt like. Yet she was younger than me, although by only a few moments. She had known Boromir for most of his life. How could she realize she was in love now? 


	10. First Tryst

Chapter 10: First Tryst

This chapter has **nothing bad in it**, no matter what the title. "First Tryst" was all I could think of. Sry for not updating more. I had no ideas.

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Boromir strode wistfully along the upper halls of Rivendell the next night in silence. Though only his legs moved, questions and answers flooded his mind. Kit had not been at dinner, and he wondered why on Earth she would not be there. He had moved his seat halfway down the table so he could talk to her at meals, yet she was absent the entire day. He had only seen her twice that day; first when he had first woke as she swept by him in the halls, her hair streaming out behind her, on the way to the stables, and just a little while after that as she cantered by the window on her mare just as the sun rose over the mountains.

"What am I to say?" he thought, a sudden panic coming to him as he stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. He couldn't stand to make a fool of himself in front of her, not with the fragile love that bonded them together; he knew it would break should he make any wrong move. He swallowed hard, forcing his rapid breathing to slow, and he continued to walk down the hall, showing a false confidence.

The door to her room was open again, as he almost always found it. As he stepped in, he thought it empty: no exquisite movement graced his presence. Nothing… With a sigh, he turned to leave, but just then, a soft whisper floated through the air to his ears. "Boromir?" He turned again and he suddenly noticed the sharp outline of her form against the deep shadows of the room. He quickly went to her, pulling her into his arms from the blue velvet chair on which she sat. "Why do you seek solitude?" he questioned softly, stroking her hair.

Kit buried her head in the crook of his neck and breathed in deeply, taking in his scent: leather, iron, innocent sweat, and the sweet smell of lavender soap. He felt her smile against him; smiling back, he asked her again, thoroughly concerned. "It is the way I have always been, Boromir. Come, I'll light the fire." He could sense she was holding something back, but he did not inquire further. He sat in the chair opposite of the one she had sat in, biting his lip to hold back his desires. Oh, the shameful images that came to his mind whenever he caught a look of those beautiful eyes or a bare patch of skin just below her collarbone…

He shook his head, watching as she turned her back to him, kneeling at the stone fireplace. Within moments, she stood, dusting her hands of black soot, and sat back in her chair. A flame was blazing. Boromir quickly took up the small bottle of wine and poured two glasses. She always seemed to have an endless supply of wineglasses. "Only half full," he noted with worry. "How much did you drink before I came?" he asked, taking a sip of the heady wine. She lowered her eyes, clearly ashamed. "Half of it," she muttered so quietly he could hardly hear her. "Kit!" he exclaimed, going to her and taking her into his arms. Kissing her hair, he felt hot tears prick at the corners of his eyes at the thought of this beautiful woman wasting herself away…with wine.

She reached up to stroke back his fiery mane of hair and look into his eyes. Their gaze locked and it was a long while until he could see anything but the raging love swirling in these deep cerulean depths. "Boromir…" she whispered, and he shuddered, closing his eyes. He could not help it.

"I have to confess I have not been entirely honest with you, beloved," he said in what he hoped was a seductive voice, taking her hands in his and leading her to the bed. Both of them sat down. Unaware, his forefinger began to trace the scar above her chest. "I have been dreaming…of us…together in this bed…" His voice trailed off as he imagined them like his dream…right at that very moment. He drew his hand away as he felt her body tense under his palm. "I understand," he murmured, leaning in close. "I'm not ready for that either, but I cannot help if I dream." She glanced away, shifting backwards a little, and it was her turn to take his hand. Her delicate fingers traced the solid muscle in his upper arm, barely hesitating, yet she stopped as she came to the fourth finger of his right hand. Her gaze turned to the silver ring there and with a small sob, she turned away and nearly ran out onto the balcony. 

Boromir grimaced, disgusted with himself. He went to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He stroked her arm as she had done to him, silently noting every sadness about her now. She was gripping hard the steel rail, tarnished from weathering, as she wept. She was weak, very weak, as a sudden pain struck her like a blow to the head. "How could you pledge your love to another woman?" she cried, and her voice seemed to echo in the silent night. "Shhhhh…" he murmured, brushing his lips across the scar on her cheek. Her words then sank in. "What? I never pledged my love to anyone but you, Kit!" he said gently. "The ring," she snarled through her tears. 

His eyes moved from her perfect eyes, sparkling in the moonlight, to the silver band. He winced in guilt, but a sudden agony smote his heart. "No, my beloved," he murmured sadly. "My mother gave this to me the night before she died…" Her weeping suddenly stopped. She turned herself to face him, in turn, enfolding her arms around his waist to pull him close. "Boromir, I did not realize," she whispered into his chest. "You know how I am: I jump to sudden conclusions." 

It all happened so fast…

One moment, he was gazing down into the tear-washed brightness of her eyes, the next, he could feel her soft lips against his own. His eyes widened in shock, and he was amazed that his body was still functioning under these romantic circumstances. 

His Kit obviously knew what she was doing. Her tongue reached up to slide its way across his lips, seeking entrance. They parted in amazement at being taken with such skill and tenderness; their tongues found each other, and almost upon instinct, they began a sensuous battle for dominance. For a long while, this continued, until a lone raven cried out from a nearby tree. They broke apart….

"That was my first kiss, you know," Boromir whispered into her ear, moving her silky hair away and grating his teeth gently across the lobe. She giggled, hunching up her shoulder to ward him off. "It was my first real one," she said with a guilty smile. "I have kissed before." "And you scold me of loving another!" he scolded playfully, lightly pushing her back into the room and onto the bed.

"I'm exhausted," he admitted, settling his hand on her cheek. "So am I," she whispered, curling up against his chest. They drifted off into sweet dreams as a nightingale sang, hoping good fortune for this pair of lovers..… 


	11. Question

Chapter 11: Question

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Morning dawned wet and gray. A mourning dove sang from the balcony rail as Boromir roused, slowly rising to his feet and stretching. Rubbing his eyes with a sigh, he fell back in to the bed, suddenly feeling the need to hold the sleeping princess beside him. Kit was limp as he lifted her, one arm supporting her at the shoulders, the other under the knees. He now found himself not caring of what she thought of this.

He took her out onto the balcony, doing nothing to stop the warm late autumn rain from soaking them to the bone. She woke, shaking her head to rid the clouding sleep from her mind, only to find her outside, being pelted in rain, cupped in her lover's arms. If she had not been so exhausted, she would have retaliated, but now, she simply buried her head against his shoulder.

Boromir bent his head to brush his lips across her own, loving the soft, silky feel of her hair against his cheek. "How are you so perfect in body with that temper?" he asked teasingly, gently rocking her like a child. She opened one eye sleepily with a muddled grin. "I think that question can answer itself," she giggled. He rolled his eyes playfully. "Not true. Just because you are of royal Elven blood does not mean you are absolutely flawless, my dear," he said, hiding half the truth. He recognized her faults, and because of them, she was more dear to him than ever.

"Prove it," she said in mock challenge, laughing. 

Swinging easily out of his grasp, she smiled broadly and said, "Boromir, come, we must change." She took his hand and led him back into her room.

The cold, hard stone against his bare feet and his dripping clothing clinging to his skin was enough to make him shiver. The fire had died not long after they had fallen asleep and even then, he had felt a chill run through him, but the woman, so trusting and vulnerable, in his arms warmed him again. He now stared into the smoldering embers in wonder as he waited for Kit to come out from the corner behind her wardrobe. She emerged slowly, head slightly bowed, in a white cotton gown, nearly falling past her feet. The right shoulder slipped off and Kit grabbed for the fabric, but she wasn't quick enough…

He caught a glimpse…

Blushing furiously, she quickly strode past him and out the door. Trembling, he followed stiffly. As she fled down the stairs to the dining hall, he reluctantly turned and opened the door to his room to change…

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Within moments, he emerged in the hall, clad in a black velvet tunic, and silver silk breeches, amidst a throng of guests. His eyes roamed over the many faces surrounding him, but he found no sign of his beloved. A wave of shame washed over him and he blinked to fight back tears. Turning to find his seat, he sat down heavily in the chair, gripping the arms tightly. He felt hands over his eyes and an enticing voice whispered in his ear.

"Guess…."

He recognized the sweet voice of Kit and he quickly took her hand, nearly crying as he kissed it, desperate for the warm reassurance that she gave him. She helped him to his feet and embraced him, leading him off to the library….

Once there, she took him to her favorite little nook by the fire and sat him in the couch. He leaned back against the arm and allowed her to lie in between his legs, her head resting against his stomach. A question that he had been dwelling on for the past few days came rushing to his tongue, but he bit it back, knowing that if the wrong moment was chosen, everything would fall apart. For over an hour they just lay together in a beautiful silence, each one caressing the other in their own way.

Finally, the sun began to peak through the thick fog that covered the valley of Rivendell. Boromir knew that this was his time…

He slipped out from underneath her, taking her hand and leading her to the window. They watched the golden orb rise swiftly through the painted sky for what seemed like a blissful eternity; Boromir turned to Kit, wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her as close as possible. A high-pitched voice sounded in his mind, trying to dissuade him not to ask her, but he ignored it. He bent his head in close until their brows touched; his breath was coming out in soft sobs that racked his body. 

"Kit?" he whispered. "Will…you take the honor…to be my wife?" His body tensed in the few moments that passed in a shocked silence between them. He sighed, but just as he was about to turn away, she threw her arms around him, shouting "Yes!" at the top of her lungs, and they shared many fervent kisses. But as the sun almost reached its zenith, they stood silhouetted against the newly birthed sun, in a kiss that would outrun them all…. 


	12. Wishes

Chapter 12: Wishes

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YOU ROCK CRYSTALHORSE72 AND CONNOR WOLF! U STILL RULE!

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Frodo watched Boromir and Kit dancing on the green in the twilight, just as the moon was rising, from the balcony just outside his room. A southern wind blew back their hair and it danced with them as they laughed. A sudden jealousy smote the hobbit and he tried to shake himself of it, but it would not leave. It only grew stronger until he thought he would burst. His cheeks began to burn in rage as they turned and turned in seemingly endless circles. Slamming his fist into his thigh, he turned away….

The pair knelt together, unaware of their watcher. Boromir, his heart nearly beating twice its regular speed at the wonderful prospect of a future wedding, felt very giddy and restless, whereas his new fiancée felt a beautiful calm in her mind, and was sure that for the first time she felt complete. She purred deep in her throat, brushing her lips across his own and he returned this sensual gesture before gently bending her head to rest it on his shoulder. "Boromir," she laughed quietly. "What are you doing?" He held her closer, burying his face into the scarlet curtain of hair that was draped haphazardly across his chest. "I am the man," he whispered. "I need to protect you."

He started when she pushed away from him with a sudden force he never thought she would have, yet still with her feminine grace. "What do you mean 'protected'?" she inquired, her lip curling. "Oh, Kit," he murmured, standing to draw her into an embrace, but she moved away. "What do you mean?" she persisted. 

"Well," Boromir stammered. "It is only the sheer fact that woman are considered weaker than men."

"And do you think me weak?" she snapped, lowering her head in challenge. 

Boromir could find no words. He stepped back, mouth agape, wonder and disbelief shining in his eyes. In only a moment, she was gone, running away from him, back to her uncle's home. He could find no more strength left in his body and he fell to his knees, hiding his head in his hands….

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Long before, Frodo had fled to his bed in frustration. He closed his eyes, but he could find no sleep. He tossed and turned, to no prevail. Yet he soon found a distraction as Kit burst into the room, her expression of pure malice. The door slammed behind her and she began bustling about, just to keep her hands, wishing to seek out a throat or a blade, occupied. She slowed as she spied the hobbit lying motionless in bed; her ears strained to hear his breath, and she shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I know you are not asleep, Frodo," she said, a slight edge in her voice. 

"I admit it," he replied, sitting up. In an almost business-like manner, she began to dress a new bandage and remove his old one, although her hands were still gentle. "What do you desire most?" he asked suddenly. He caught a quick glance of her eye, but nothing more. "A child," she said. "No one is about to provide me with one at the moment." she added, her tone cutting off his answer. "But what about Boromir?" he questioned again after a moment's pause. 

"We are in an argument at the moment," she said firmly, tugging his bandage too tight. She realized her error and corrected herself before sweeping out of the room.

For a long while after, Frodo lay in his bed, facing the ceiling. If only he could give her what she wanted…


	13. Apologies

Chapter 13: Apologies

Tee hee hee!

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Legolas strode proudly to his sister's chambers, an air of confidence about him. He knew that Boromir had hurt Kit in the worst way possible: by calling her weak. He had heard this from Aragorn himself, whom had comforted his friend at the time. A triumphant smile lighting his youthful features, he strode quietly in and opened his mouth to speak. It closed as a guilty pang struck him in the gut.

Kit was curled up underneath her sheets, facing away from the door, almost silent sobs shaking her willowy body. Legolas closed his eyes in reverence: everything was so difficult for her in recent times, and yet she somehow charged through her trials, shrugging them off as easily as a butterfly on her shoulder. Now she finally seemed to be breaking.

He advanced to her bedside and brushed away a stray strand of crimson hair from her paling face. She shook his hand away, warning him with baring fangs. He heeded it and sat down beside her, awkwardly settling a hand on her hip. "I heard of what happened," he said. "I do not know your pain, but I realize that you must be in sheer agony." "I am," she whispered back, her eyes shining in the waning moon. Suddenly, she lifted herself and threw her arms around his waist, burying her head under his chin.

"It was my fault entirely!" she wailed as he stroked her back with reassuring sounds that her uttered from deep in his throat. He looked up as Boromir, looking thoroughly nervous, appeared at the door. "I shall leave both of you alone," he said to his sister before leaving with a small smile to her lover. With a sigh, he closed the door behind him and left.

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Boromir approached his beloved cautiously, suddenly aware of all her strength in the tensed muscles that visibly rippled under the smooth white skin. She watched him, her emotion hidden by an expressionless mask, and Boromir, uncomfortable, lowered his eyes as she had done, yet he still approached her. 

He was soon by her side, slipping an arm around her shoulders….

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor, his head spinning.

Kit was standing over him, nearly panting from exertion; yet she wore a smirk that said it all. She was merely taking revenge for what he had done to her. He tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness engulfed him and he found himself on the floor again. Her desires filled, Kit took him into her arms, taking him to the bed. She set him gently against the pillows, then paused as she felt hot, sticky blood on her fingers at the back of his head. "I'm…I'm…sorry…" she stuttered, her emotion slowly filtering through the wall that she had built up over the many years she had spent killing others for the good of Middle-Earth.

"Think nothing of it," Boromir whispered as he tried to sit, but the new weakness in his back would not let him. With a groan, he sank back into soft comfort as he watched his Kit dip a rag in the wash basin under her small mirror hanging on the wall. She lifted his head and settled in on her shoulder to steady him as she began to massage the wet cloth over his small wound. 

Finally, she finished. Boromir dozed in the crook of her neck, the combination of warm water and Kit's gentle touch soothing his painfully tensed muscles to such that he nearly slept. She chuckled lightly, her intentionally bruising kiss waking him fully. She helped him stand and led him once again out onto the moonlit balcony.

"What do you want most in the world?" he asked her. Kit was silent, gazing at him out of the corner of her eye….

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the bed beneath her….


	14. Deliverance

Chapter 14: Deliverance

****

U ALL ROCK! Oh, wait, before I lose my train of thought in my imagination, Kit doesn't turn into the horsie thingy, but she _does_ turn into a silver wolf, in honor of Connor Wolf, who is my bestest friend in real life. K? K.

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Boromir strode forward up the grassy hill, his annoyance directed solely at Legolas. The Elf had heard their cries last night and had confronted him that very morning in anger. Boromir was consumed by his near hatred at his soon-to-be-brother-in-law that he nearly collided with Kit, who was standing on the crest of the hill, staring out, unblinking, at the waning moon. He stood back in amazement, marveling at the sheer presence of her. She was now dressed in black, the folds of her velvet dress riding back on the swift wind, her hair whipping out in wild directions.

It was said that Elves were ethereal, airy, but it was not so with the eldest princess of Mirkwood. He could just imagine the breeze itself giving birth to her, mixing the North, the South, the East, and the West, entwining with each other to form her, quick and skillful.

He gathered her into his arms from behind, allowing the wind to engulf him as well as he brushed his lips across the tip of her pointed ear. She still smelt of him and a sort of guilty wave washed over him; he had defiled her and her virgin body. Kit, instead of shoving him away as he had expected her to do, wrapped her arms around his own, rocking them to and fro. 

"Kit," Boromir began, but she interrupted. "Shhh," she murmured. "Listen to the wind. He is speaking to us." Her lover strained to hear what she did, but it was no use. He could only hear faint whispers playing in his ears in an ancient language that he did not know.

"He is bidding us good fortune," she whispered before taking his hand in hers. In a silence, she led him to a stone bench along the path to the lake. She rested her head against his chest, finally submitting to her sex. Bringing her lips to meet his own, she shifted herself closer until every part of their bodies touched.

"Boromir," she said, letting out a nervous breath. "I went to see my Uncle this morning, for I wasn't feeling well…I hold a child…your child…"


	15. Dance

Chapter 15: Dance

Thanx y'all! I luv ya!

****

Disclaimer: Song by Sarah MacGlachlan. 

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Boromir stared. It couldn't be true….

"You…you what?" he stuttered, placing a hand on her cheek. She sighed unhappily, leaning into it. Boromir realized in her ashamed stance that it was indeed true, that she did hold a child. It was his blood….

"Oh Kit," he murmured, kissing her softly. "This is wonderful! I have an heir to the Stewardship! Yet I cannot help but feeling guilt as well. I think that we should have been married before this happened…." He took her by the hand as he stood, pulling her gently to his side, and began the walk to the lake. The water lapped calmly at the sandy shores, creating a peace in their strained minds. They lay in on the white stretch, curled up against one another, unaware that they had a watcher…

Frodo was watching the stars on the eastern bank, to the left of the two lovers. The jealousy came to him again, filling him up inside until he thought his heart would be burned to ashes. In an act of sheer defiance, he began to sing:

__

But I fear,

I have nothing to give,

I have nothing to lose here in this lonely place,

Tangled up in our embrace.

There's nothing I'd like better than to fall…

His high tenor echoed in the night, over the crickets and the waves at his feet. Kit had heard him and her lover as well. The couple both lifted their heads and looked, each with different expressions; Kit with amusement dancing in her eyes, Boromir with a look of sheer contempt. Under normal circumstances, the hobbit would have blushed and slowly walked away, but sheer determination to finally fulfill his love for _her_ drove him onwards. He stood, digging his nails into his palms until they drew blood, and strode confidently forward.

Fear was beginning to rise…

His heart was pounding as he reached his love's side, but a flicker of a blaze was burning in his heart and he hesitantly took Kit's hand and pulled her to her feet. He looked up, afraid, only to meet a warm and comforting gaze. His heart melted instantly as a small laugh erupted from the elf before him and as she gently embraced him to her hips.

He was dissolving into her, pressing himself tightly into her warmth; for a few more moments, they stood that way until she was taking him by the hands and leading him in a dance. It was light and gay and he felt like he was soaring, even as the weight of the Ring grew every day. He noticed nothing….

That is until they were pulled apart….


	16. Gentle

Gentle  
  
(This one's kinda pervy, but I like it.) ************************************************************************  
  
Frodo lay still on his bed, trying desperately to stop the tiny voice in the back of his head from egging on his desires. It had been four months since Kit had become his maid in early March, and he had been content just to be near her, but now some wild instinct within him could sense something in her that told him that she was physically ready to be mated again, even with her seven month old daughter, aging as her father's kind would, still nursing. This feeling made him an animal for her love.  
She gave it to him in plenty amount, but she reserved herself her corporal passion for her dreams of Boromir. Even in his room down the hall, the hobbit could hear her moans of the Man's name and her cries of desperation and grief. Something guilty in his soul wished for her to want him like she wanted Boromir, the father of her child, her daughter Elena. Just this thought made him turn bright crimson and, if he was in her company, forced him to run to his room, rendering the Princess of Mirkwood speechless.  
He now heard the cry of Elena as she awoke, and immediately, a soft beautiful song stemmed the weeping of the girl until there was silence. Frodo couldn't take it any more. Every muscle in his miniscule body stiffened for a moment, nervousness waging war in his stomach, until he defiantly threw the sheets off his body, pulled on his cotton breeches so as not to reveal his purpose too soon, and stalked silently to her room.  
  
The door was ajar, and as Frodo peeked his head in, he had to stifle a gasp of longing and wonder. His eyes drank in the sight of Kit standing partially bent, shrouded in pallid moonlight, above her baby's crib, gently settling the child into her blankets. But this was not what stunned the Halfling. It was an obvious sign that Elena had just finished nursing, for the breast of the Elf stood entirely uncovered, luscious nipple and all.  
Frodo panted heavily with his mouth open, wishing he could lick away the stray drops of milk that lingered on her perfectly round womanhood, shining beautifully on her fair skin. Anorlach then noticed his presence at the door, and quickly covered herself from view.  
"Please," she said, offering him a seat on her bed as she herself lay back against her pillows. "Sit." Frodo instantaneously did so, forcing all his will to keep him from throwing himself on top of her and kissing her with all his might. He sighed unhappily as she asked why he was out of bed at this time of night.  
"I couldn't sleep," he answered, hesitating before asking the brazen question that leapt to his tongue. "May I have a kiss?" Kit cocked her head quizzically, her gaze warm and affectionate, and Frodo's heart leaped into his mouth. But a disappointed cry rose from his tightening throat and he pushed her away as her lips pressed onto his sweaty brow. He could only shake his head to say that wasn't what he wanted; the only indication he could possibly give was to touch his lips with an upraised finger.  
Kit's deep blue eyes grew wide in surprise, Frodo's request sinking into her ears in full weight of its meaning. It was her turn to twist away, this time in panic and grief, jerking out of his reach so his lips as he leaned forward for his wish only touched her collarbone.  
Frodo saw his opportunity. Scrambling lest she sit, he lay on top of her and pressed his lips into her own, marveling at the spark of pleasure that spread warmth from his face all around his body. Her mouth was open from the surprise of the moment, and instinctively, the hobbit's tongue crept tentatively in, but the hesitance evaporated like dew under the mid- morning sun as he found her own tongue, and instantly, all his limbs were entwining with her own, quivering as a newborn fawn.  
The moment ended, soon enough. All the preliminary surprise had worn off of Kit, and she used the fact that she was on the bottom to her advantage by swiftly turning onto her side, the sudden motion throwing Frodo off the bed. He was about to protest, but he then saw the tears, full of terror and resentment, flow down her perfect cheek. His guilt rose to full throttle as he heard a little agonized whimper, vainly trying to be stifled, come from her beautiful throat.  
He rose and went to touch her hand, but when their skin made contact, she flinched as if he had burned her. He couldn't bear the expression of sore pride and distrust that lingered in her eyes as he inched away towards the door. She allowed herself to weep, and Frodo turned away, unable to look at her anymore. Her sobs echoed in his ears for the next week.  
  
Over the next few days, Kit and Frodo made ready for Legolas's stay, yet the hobbit's mistress refused to speak with him, even be in the same room with him. Whenever he decided to help with her cleaning, she would give him a spiteful glare and leave in a mood off to do something else. The eve of Legolas's coming, Frodo decided enough was enough. She had just gone to bed and the Halfling could catch her in a place where she could not escape. It was a serious matter. He needed to apologize.  
He burst through the door, fully clothed despite the July heat, yet looking penitent. Instantly, as he saw her tense, coiled like a cat ready to spring, he wished he could just go back to his room and hide, but that wasn't a choice he had. He sat on the edge of the bed near her feet and gently took her hands, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked into her eyes, the scorn and suspicion clear against a blue background.  
"Kit, please," he pleaded, using his thumbs resting on the top of her hands to try and warm away all the fear and betrayal she felt, stroking her smooth, flawless skin. "I couldn't help it. I love you, I do. I've wanted to kiss you ever since I knew I loved you," He hesitated. "I've wanted to be inside you for so long," he said after a pause, removing one hand from hers to settle on her belly.  
Kit's already pallid skin turned the color of fresh milk, and she trembled violently, as the poison melted from her gaze. "You don't understand," she murmured, going to her sleeping daughter, picking her up, rocking her back and forth in her arms. "Elena is the only living thing that I have left of Boromir, and she is my only joy. I am her mother, and I am able to watch her grow. I see more and more of her father in her every day, and this may seem absurd, but I feel like he is speaking to me through her eyes."  
Her sudden trust of him again made him sigh in relief, but as he drew nearer to embrace her, she backed away into the far wall, eyeing him dejectedly. "Why do you scorn me so?" he cried, awaking Elena and sending the girl into a frenzy of tears.  
"Leave," the Princess commanded, sparing the hobbit a derogatory glare, before quieting her daughter with a murmured song and a gentle rocking motion provided from her hips. Frodo, still feeling incredibly culpable, openly defied her and drew himself up to his full height, scraping together all the courage he had left to walk forward and touch her right hand. All the muscles in her arm tensed as a low growl resounded from her throat and he saw wolf fangs protrude out from under her upper lip...  
  
He woke up the next morning in his bed, with hardly any recollection of what had happened. He called out Kit's name...but she had gone... 


End file.
